


you're my only one

by sergeantsantiago



Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: F/M, Mostly Fluff, One Shot Collection, Originally Posted on Tumblr
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-05
Updated: 2018-12-29
Packaged: 2019-09-12 09:19:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16870288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sergeantsantiago/pseuds/sergeantsantiago
Summary: A collection of one-shots based on tumblr number prompts





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 40\. “Have I entered an alternate universe or did you really just crack a smile for me?”

It’s not been a month since Amy became the newest detective of the ninety-ninth precinct but twenty five days working there are more than enough to know one thing: Jacob Peralta is the most annoying person in the universe.

What bothers her most is not that he talks non-stop literally or the time, or that she’s forced to have his mess of a desk adjacent to hers (she’s almost certain that she’s seen at least two different kind of bugs fly out of one of his drawers), or that his diet consists of candy and junk food and the greasy or sticky remainders somehow always end up on her desk, or that he’s late every single day, or that he behaves like a child when Captain McGintley isn’t looking (which is always). What bothers her most is that, despite all that, he’s actually really good at his job, he’s aware of that, and he takes literally every chance he has to brag about it. If she hears that he’s made the most arrest the previous year one more time, she’s going to scream (and maybe even bet him that she can beat him at it - she’s competitive, okay? And she  _ can _ beat him).

That is why she wishes she could be literally anywhere else in the world other than on a stakeout with him. But her job is her job and she’s not about to walk out of the car, leave her post, and ruin her career just because her partner is annoying. They’ve been here for less than fifteen minutes but she’s already had to tune out his rambling about being the best detective in the history of the NYPD - which she knows is definitely  _ not _ true, but she’s found out the hard way that if she contradicts him, it’ll only result in more talking on his part.

Instead, she focuses her attention on the building they’re actually supposed to be watching, but after a while with no apparent criminal activity her eyes wander to the people passing by - a man in a suit rushing along the sidewalk and dodging whoever is on his way, an elderly woman with a tiny rat-looking dog, a woman with more bags than a human should be able to carry in one hand and holding a toddler’s hand with the other. The latter she follows closely, for some reason reminding her of her own mother, who has probably done more impressive things than that woman, eight kids and all. But eventually the woman and the kid turn a corner and disappear, bringing Amy back to reality.

The silence in the car is the first thing she notices, and quickly looks to the driver’s seat, fearing Jake has left the car for some dumb reason like wanting a pizza bagel. But he’s there, his eyes fixed on the building they’re staking out, lips pressed together and brow furrowed.

“Have you seen something?” she asks, the silence of the car making her voice sound louder than she’d intended.

“Huh?” He turns to face her, his expression replaced by one of surprise. She gives him a puzzled look but he just shakes his head and returns to his previous position.

A frown forms on Amy’s face and for some reason that she can quite pinpoint, she can’t tear her gaze away from him. She’s never seen him looking this serious - true, she’s met him less than a month ago, but  _ still _ . Plus, he’s being abnormally quiet  _ and _ she’s just basically admitted to him that she hadn’t been watching the building with enough attention and received no comment about it. “Is everything okay?”

“Yup,” he answers, not tearing his gaze away from the building.

“Are you sure? You don’t look like-”

“I’m fine. You don’t have to pretend like you care.”

Her frown deepens and she opens her mouth to say something - she’s not sure exactly  _ what _ , but  _ something _ \- but he beats her to it.

“We both know you don’t want to be here with me so let’s just do our job. Then you can ask not to be my partner again and problem solved. I’ll ask Diaz to switch cases and you can work this one with her.”

“Peralta, I don’t-”

“You don’t like me, that’s fine by me.” He shrugs.

“Peralta-”

“Or maybe it isn’t, you know. ‘Cause we barely know each other, and you don’t seem that bad.”

“Thanks?”

“But for some reason you’ve decided that you don’t like me and now I can’t even talk to you without you rolling your eyes or straight up ignoring me.”

She waits a moment of silence to pass before she even considers opening her mouth, in case there’s something more he wants to add. When it looks like there isn’t, she takes a deep breath, lets the air out in a long sigh, and turns to face him as much as the car seat allows her.

“You’re right, we barely know each other,” she begins, doing her best to keep her tone calm and even. “But it’s not hard to guess that we’re very different. It’s just- I was  _ just _ transferred, and I’m still getting used to everything, and I know that ignoring you is not cool, but it’s very hard to focus on solving cases or on doing paperwork with accuracy when there’s someone talking to you non-stop about random stuff, or to try not to get annoyed when they boast about their most recent arrest loud enough for the entire city to hear.”

“Can you blame me? I  _ am _ the best detective in the precinct. Actually, in the whole NY-”

“This is  _ exactly _ what I mean.” She rolls her eyes. 

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry. But that’s a fact, Santiago. If you want me to stop bragging you’re gonna have to prove me wrong.”

“Is this a challenge?” she asks, eyebrows raised.

He shrugs, the slightest hint of a smile appearing on his face.

“Oh, it’s  _ on _ .”

“Can’t wait to see you fail miserably. See, we  _ can _ get along!”

Amy does all in her power to suppress the chuckle that threatens to escape her, but she can’t stop the corners of her mouth from curving. 

“Have I entered an alternate universe or did you really just crack a smile for me?”

She rolls her eyes again. “Shut up.”

His laugh fills the small space of the car, and for the first time since she’s met him it crosses her mind that,  _ perhaps _ , he’s not as bad as she thought he was. Perhaps, with time, they’ll get to know each other, understand each other better, and maybe even become friends.

“I should have talked to you instead of ignoring you,” she says after a moment of silence. “I’m sorry.”

“Aw, Santiago, don’t get sappy.”

She needs to fight back the urge to roll her eyes yet again - he really is insufferable. But two can play this game, she decides.

“I’m only trying to be nice ‘cause you said you’d switch cases with Diaz and she’s terrifying.”

He brings a hand to his chest in mock pain. “That’s hurtful.”

“You’ll survive.”

 

It feels nice when, after a successful stakeout, she returns to her apartment without the wish to murder her partner for the first time in weeks. There’s a part of her that feels dumb, if she’d only said something, it would have been over days ago. She’s aware that he won’t stop bragging, or that he’s going to tease her at any chance he has, but at least they’re on the same page now. Working at the Ninety-Ninth precinct doesn’t seem so bad anymore. 

(A couple of days after the stakeout, they get into a petty, week-long argument about who cracked the case, that only comes to an end when Diaz arrests the perp herself without Jake or Amy realizing that she was gone.)


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 30\. “It’s not what it looks like…”

Amy’s exhausted. She hasn’t had a day off in almost two weeks. The worst part isn’t that she’s been overwhelmed by work - she doesn't really mind that - but that she’s barely had time to spend with her husband. Yes, they work in the same building and they live together, but they haven’t had a moment to themselves in what feels like forever and she just misses him.

She wasn’t supposed to work late, but the Captain asked her to finish and file a report before she left and it’s not like she could refuse. Luckily, she and Jake didn’t have plans for the night, but still, it was disappointing knowing that her husband would probably be asleep when she got home -  _ again _ .

She’s out of the precinct and walking towards her car the second she gets confirmation that the report has been successfully filed, almost bumping into an officer on the stairs and not stopping to apologize when the man dodges her before she knows what’s happening. It’s late and the streets aren’t as crowded as during the daytime, so it’s not long before she parks the car and walks into her building.

She can hear some shuffling inside the apartment when she reaches the door and stops to unlock it, an unexpected wave of relief washing over her at the realization that Jake’s still awake and active (not on the couch fighting his eyelids because he refuses to fall asleep until she gets home like she’s found him a couple of times). She’s not completely pleased, though. He has to wake up early the following day, as opposed to her who (thankfully) has the day off, and she knows how much he needs a good night’s rest before workdays (he’s basically useless with little sleep).

The frown that she wasn’t aware had formed on her face deepens when she opens the door. The smell of something burning hits her hard and for a split second she struggles to breathe. It doesn’t seem like something’s on fire, though, and that’s reassuring, if only very slightly.

“Jake?” she calls, dropping her bag on the table and starting towards the kitchen where the shuffling is coming from.

“Ames? You’re home already?”

“Yeah, it’s past 10.” She’s not sure what she was expecting to find - or what he was doing in the kitchen at this time in the first place - but it certainly wasn’t Jake clad in only his boxers, most of his figure stained with red liquid, a wooden spoon in one hand and a saucepan from which smoke is pouring in the other. She lets out a deep sigh. The rest of the kitchen is somehow even messier - the red liquid, which she guesses it’s a failed attempt at making sauce, is literally on every available surface; probably every single pot and plate they own is in the sink waiting to be washed, minus the two plates piled on the counter (spattered with sauce), and there’s a bowl with a yellowish goo that looks like spaghetti next to the microwave (also spattered with sauce). Cleaning everything up will take ages. “What’s all this?” She sounds more tired than angry, which is good since she’s not really  _ angry _ , but she does wish he would have chosen literally any other night to improve his cooking skills.

He puts everything he’s holding on the counter and turns to face her. “It’s not what it looks like…”

“Really?” she asks, crossing her arms in front of her and raising her eyebrows with an amused expression. He looks like a child who’s just been caught doing something he was specifically told not to do and the fact that he’s practically naked adds an extra comedic touch to the situation. “Because it looks like you were trying to cook something and couldn’t quite figure it out.”

For a moment he stares at her, eyes narrowed, but eventually sighs in defeat. “Okay, maybe it  _ is _ what it looks like. I just- I asked Charles for a recipe ‘cause I wanted to surprise you with dinner, but I guess it wasn’t really for beginners as he said it was, and I obviously failed, and-”

“Hey,” she says, moving towards him and almost placing her hands on his shoulders before realizing that she’d get sauce on herself. Instead, she grabs a clean dishcloth from one of the drawers and hands it to him. He takes it and slowly begins to dab his skin, the tiniest hint of a pout on his lips. “It’s okay. We can just order something. I’m sure that pizza place is still open.”

He shrugs, his gaze avoiding hers. “I wanted to do something nice for you. You’ve been so busy and…” He takes a deep breath and sighs again. “I don’t know. I miss you, I guess. It’s silly.”

She carefully places both hands on his now clean face, driven by the warmth that’s spread from her stomach to the rest of her body because of his words. “No, it’s not,” she says, her eyes fixed on his. “I miss you too.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” She nods, the corners of her mouth curving slightly. “We haven’t exactly spent a lot of time together lately.”

“More like nothing at all.” His hands move to rest on her back, and he’s probably getting sauce on her uniform, but, honestly, she couldn’t care less.

She leans forward and presses a soft kiss against his lips. He’s smiling when they pull apart, his hands still on her, and she lets out a contented sigh as she moves her hands down to his neck.

“We have a whole night of cleaning ahead of us to make up for it.”

Jake groans in mock protests, pulling her closer until her head is resting against his shoulder. He stinks of tomato sauce. “Can’t we do that tomorrow? And just eat something and cuddle tonight?”

“And leave this mess here?”

“I mean, it’s not  _ that _ bad…”

Amy rolls her eyes, her lips curved into a playful smile. His offer does sound tempting. She can’t believe she’s actually considering it. “Are you willing to wake up earlier than you have to to clean up? Because I’m not doing it by myself and I’m definitely not waiting until you’re back from work.”

His face softens immediately. “Babe, I texted you, I have tomorrow off. I swapped days with Charles because he needed Friday off.” His words cause a frown to form on her face and he can’t hold back a chuckle. “You didn’t read it, did you?”

“I haven’t checked my phone in hours. I was trying to finish that report as soon as possible. But now that I know that you can sleep in, there is no way we’re going to bed without cleaning up.”

He sighs, defeated. “What did I get myself into?”

“Hey! You made this mess, you clean it up. I’m only helping you because I’m the best wife ever.”

“True.” He brushes a kiss against the top of her head. “But can we eat something first? My failed attempt at cooking has been going on for hours and I’m starving.”

She nods and takes a step back, immediately missing the warmth of his body. “By the way, what happened to your clothes?” She makes a vague gesture to his body, pressing her lips in order to prevent herself from smiling.

He shrugs. “They got stained like ten seconds after I started.”

“And you just decided no clothes was better?”

“I mean, I don’t know how hard it is to remove sauce stains from clothes, but I can just jump into the shower.”

“Can’t argue with that logic.”

“ _ Besides _ ,” he adds, and by the tone he uses Amy can see herself rolling her eyes in the next thirty seconds, “I feel like this is working for you.”

“Oh, definitely,” she says with a hint of sarcasm. “Who doesn’t love a man covered in sauce?” He brings a hand to his chest in mock pain, and as hard as she tries, she can’t stop herself from rolling her eyes, her lips spread into a wide smile. “Go shower, I’ll order something.”

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 7\. “I almost lost you.”

It feels amazing to be back home after _months_ of being locked up in the safe house with Kevin. Yes, he was the one who volunteered to do the job, but in his defense, he had no idea finding Seamus Murphy would take that long. Or that he’d be completely cut off from the outside world during that time. Kevin had been great company at first, but there’s so much time you can spend with only one person before you go crazy - and in those trying times not even Nicolas Cage's movies are of much help. Now he can watch whatever he wants, breathe fresh air, walk upright during the day, and be in contact with other human beings.

He has special interest in his fianceé, who’s been particularly quiet ever since he showed up at the precinct with Captain Holt, Kevin, and a handcuffed Murphy. He wasn’t expecting her to run in slow motion into his arms the moment she saw him, but he’d be lying if he said the small smile she shot him across the bullpen was his ideal reunion. The drive home was silent - he didn’t have much to tell her about the past weeks in the safe house, and Amy didn’t seem to be interested in having a conversation at that moment. He knows her, though, and knows there is something on her mind and that she will talk to him eventually - if he tries to force it out of her, it’ll only make things worse.

Once in their apartment, after the feeling of finally being back home subsides - a feeling not foreign to him given the multiple times he’s been forced to be away for extended periods - he goes straight to their room and jumps onto the bed, relishing in the softness of the mattress. A moment later he takes his phone out of his pocket and opens one of the many social media apps, wondering what he’s missed and if people noticed he was gone.

“Could you please at least change?” Amy’s voice comes from the doorway, where she’s standing firm, arms crossed in front of her.

It’s in that moment that he realizes he’s still in the weird pervert clothes. It had seemed such a good idea - no one was supposed to recognize them if they were dressed like this - and it had almost worked out perfectly. He jumps off the bed and changes into his most comfortable sweatpants and the first t-shirt he finds (all his clothes, except for one of his hoodies that he saw hanging from the back of one of the chairs in the living room, are neatly folded and in the closet, proof that he hasn’t been in the apartment in forever).

“Should we order something?” Amy asks when he’s back on the bed, moving closer to where he is but not sitting down.

He turns until he’s on his side, facing her, and props his head with one hand. “Yeah. I haven’t eaten since this morning.”

“Alright,” she simply says, fishing her phone out of the pocket of the jacket that she’s hasn’t bothered to take off. “What do you want?”

“I don’t know,” he answers, a frown forming on his face. “Pizza?”

She nods once and makes the call, his eyes fixed on her the whole time. She looks like she’s been getting barely enough sleep, and her shoulders are tense. He gives her a small smile when her gaze falls on him, but she quickly looks away. His frown deepens when she begins to pace in the space between their bed and the bedroom door.

“What’s wrong, Ames?” he asks the second she ends the call, taking her by surprise. It’s clear on her face that whatever is on her mind is bothering her, and yes, perhaps she doesn’t want to talk about it right now, but he needs to try; he hates seeing her upset and being unable to do something about it.

She shrugs in an attempt to dismiss her thoughts as unimportant but the pained expression on her face gives her away, so he pats her side of the bed with his free hand. “Come here.”

She does so, not bothering to pretend that she’d rather not. She dives into the bed and curls up to his side, burying her face in his neck, his hand moving automatically to trace random patterns on her back. A moment later a sob escapes her and his shirt is damp with tears.

“Hey, hey,” he whispers, pulling her as close to him as possible and placing a kiss on her hair. “It’s okay.”

She shakes her head and readjusts her position so that her eyes meet his. “No, it's not.”

Confusion washes over him. “What do you mean?”

“I almost lost you.”

It’s how she says it, how her voice cracks, mixed with the way she’s looking at him, her eyes red and puffy and filled with terror what makes the reality of the day’s events settle in. Seamus Murphy got him. Seamus Murphy threatened to kill him. Seamus Murphy was _very_ close to killing him. He’s only here right now, lying in bed in his apartment with the person he loves most in the universe, thanks to Kevin. If it hadn’t been for Kevin, he - _and_ Holt - would be dead right now. He doesn’t like that thought one bit.

“I’m sorry,” he says not knowing what else to say, his voice just above a whisper.

She brings a hand to her face to wipe the tears, but only a moment later a new wave rolls down her cheeks. “You can’t be so reckless.”

“I know,” he sighs. “I just- I couldn’t stand to watch Holt and Kevin fall apart, especially if I could do something about it,” he adds after a short pause.

Amy’s face softens, but her crying is nowhere near stopping. “I get that,” she says between sniffles, “but there were more options other than putting your life _and_ Kevin’s at risk. Like, you know, _talking_ to them.”

He knows she’s right - completely, one hundred percent right - and he wishes it would have crossed his mind a couple of hours ago when it would have been useful. But, if he hadn’t taken Kevin to the library, he wouldn’t be home right now. Or maybe he would have; after all, the squad did manage to locate Seamus Murphy. The more he thinks about it, the more it seems to him that what he did was incredibly stupid.

He brings a hand to Amy’s face and tucks a loose lock of hair behind her ear. “I’ll be more careful from now on.”

Her eyes light up. “You promise?”

“Mhmm.” He wipes some of her tears away, and she turns her face so as to press a kiss on his palm.

“And that you’ll assess the situation before putting your life at risk, and won’t do it unless it’s absolutely necessary?”

He brings his free hand to his chest and places it over his heart. “I promise.”

The corners of her lips curve slightly, and he can clearly see a spark in her eyes that wasn’t there just moments before. She moves on the bed until her face is directly above his and leans down to kiss him, her lips barely brushing over his. God, he’s missed her _so much_.

“I’m so happy that you’re back home,” she tells him a moment later, when she’s once more curled by his side, her head resting on his chest. “I’m still a little mad at you, though.”

He lets out the softest of chuckles. “That’s fair. I’m happy to be back, too. I missed the internet.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, and fresh air. _And_ standing up during the day.”

“Anything else?”

“Surprisingly, work. And the squad.”

She lifts her head to look at him. “Anyone in particular?”

“Hmm…” He pretends to think until Amy’s eyes are so narrowed that he can’t tell if they’re open or closed. “No, not really,” he says eventually, earning himself a soft punch on the chest. “Okay, okay, I missed you.”

She rolls her eyes but before her head returns to his chest he notices the hint of a smile on her lips.

“I really did,” he adds a moment later, bringing a hand to move up and down her arm, “no joke. I don’t know for how much longer I would have been able to take it.”

“I missed you too,” he hears her whisper. “ _So much_.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 3\. “Please, don’t leave.”

Under normal circumstances, Amy is awake and up before her first alarm goes off. She can count with her fingers the times she’s been awakened by her second alarm (most of them due to working late); and she can’t remember the last time she’s heard the third. Still, she sets them lest she should oversleep and be late for work (or wherever she needs to be).

The thing is, the past two weeks have been far from normal. They’ve actually been pretty crazy. Holt left, Dozerman died, and the Vulture is her new Captain. And she’s dating Jake Peralta. As in, Jake Peralta, her annoying, childish coworker. He is her  _ boyfriend _ . Her heart skips a beat every time she reminds herself of that. She’s glad they’re doing this despite everything that’s happened - she’s never been this happy with someone, and it’s only been two weeks.

They’ve spent almost every night together. The sex being stupid good has its consequences - the biggest one being that, the second their shift is over and they step out of the precinct, they can’t keep their hands off each other (she’s enforced strict rules about their behaviour at work after the incident with Dozerman). As a result they end up at his apartment, the closest to work. Sleeping at Jake’s means she has to rely on her phone as an alarm, and although it’s never failed her until now, she’s managed to convince him to set an extra alarm on his phone as well. It also means going to sleep later than usual and much more tired, thus making it harder to wake up in the morning.

She groans against the pillow when the ringtone starts blaring, and tries to roll over and reach for the nightstand but the arm tightly wrapped around her middle prevents her from doing so. She tries again, this time managing to roll onto her side, but before her hand can touch the phone the arm pulls her back to the middle of the bed.

“Five more minutes,” Jake murmurs against her hair, and she sighs.

If it were up to her, she’d stay all day in bed with him (she can’t believe she’d actually do that, what is he doing to her?). But, unlike him who has the day off, she has to go to work. “I’m gonna be late.”

“Nuh-uh.” He pulls her even closer to him, his chest coming in contact with her bare back. “All alarms are set way too early,” he whispers into her ear, moving down to her neck and pressing feather light kisses there. Damn him.

“Right, just-” She sighs when his lips brush against a particular spot that he’s become well aware of the past couple of weeks. “Let me turn it off, it’s really annoying.”

He lets out a soft chuckle and she feels his grip on her loosening. She could use this opportunity to get up, she knows, but she figures some more minutes in bed won’t hurt anyone (or make her be late). So she touches the screen of her phone without even looking and a second later she’s next to Jake again, this time facing him. His hair is a mess - a mix of sleep and their activities of the previous night - and he looks like he could use some more sleep. Still, his lips are spread in a sleepy smile.

“Morning.”

“Morning.” Her hand moves automatically to his face, and her stomach jumps when he leans against her touch. Before she knows what she’s doing she finds herself pressing her lips softly against his.

He wraps his arm around her waist, his hand landing flat on her back, and pulls her as close to him as physically possible, resulting in their legs tangling under the bedsheets and her burying her face on his neck. She’s not sure how long they stay like that, his skin warm against her might have driven her to sleep, but the next thing she’s aware of is another alarm going off, a different ringtone than before.

Jake’s groan of protest is muffled against her neck, and she can’t stop herself from chuckling softly. She waits a moment, expecting him to let her move and turn the alarm off once more, but he doesn’t even flinch. When she attempts to move, his hold on her tightens.

“Five more minutes.”

“You’ve already used that one,” she tells him. “Now, let me move.”

He groans again but rolls over so that he’s facing the ceiling. He brings his arm to his face to block the sunlight pouring in from the window, and she notices his lips curved in a pout. Instead of getting up, like she intended not ten seconds ago, she turns off the alarm and returns to his side, leaving some space between them.

He’s surprised, she can see it clearly on his face when he turns to face her, even though he’s working hard to keep the pout. “D’you really have to go?”

She sighs and nods. She notices his arm moving to her waist, but she’s quick and takes his hand in hers. She’s already had to use all her willpower to free herself from his arms, if he holds her again she’s screwed. “I can’t just not go to work.”

“You  _ could _ ,” he says, propping his head in his free hand. “It’s not like the Vulture cares.”

He does have a point - the Vulture would rather they do nothing and give all their cases to Major Crimes - but if he needs her for any of his stupid tasks and she’s not there when she’s supposed to be, he could demote her or even fire her. She’s not risking that, no matter how tempting a warm bed and her  _ boyfriend _ might be.

“I’m sorry,” he says before she has the chance to open her mouth. “I forgot who I was talking to.”

She rolls her eyes, freeing her hand and punching him lightly on the shoulder. He feigns pain and lets himself fall back on the bed, and she uses that moment to roll over and get up. She’s almost out of the bed when he grabs her by the waist and pulls her back down. When she doesn’t protest, he settles on top of her, one arm on each side.

“You’re unbelievable,” she says with a chuckle.

He pays no mind to her comment and instead leans down and kisses her. She kisses him back automatically, her arms wrapping around his neck and pulling him closer. The last remaining thought about work leaves her mind when his hand starts running up and down her side. A soft moan escapes her when his lips move past her jaw to her neck, her hands making a bigger mess out of his hair. Eventually his lips return to hers, and the second he deepens the kiss the third alarm goes off, causing both of them to groan.

Without a word, he reaches for the nightstand, turns off the alarm, and glances at the time. She watches as a frown forms on his face, and she knows exactly why. The third alarm exists as an emergency backup. It’s set at a time that’ll allow her to get to work right on time only if she proceeds with her morning routine without delay. If she’s being honest, the disappointment on his face breaks her heart a little. Still, he doesn’t move from his current position, and she doesn’t make him, either.

“Please, don’t leave.” He’s pouting again, but this time it does get to her. Because she doesn’t want to leave. She doesn’t want to go to work and put up with her awful boss. She wants to stay in bed with her  _ boyfriend _ , have stupid good sex, maybe get a bit more sleep.

The rational part of her brain takes over before she can do something she’ll probably regret later. “Jake, I have to.” She doesn’t sound convincing and the fact that she doesn’t even attempt to get up doesn’t help either. “I’ll see you tonight,” she adds when she sees in his face that he’s about to lean down and kiss her again. 

“Yeah, okay,” he sighs and rolls over to his side of the bed.

Slowly, she rolls over too, gets up, and puts on the first piece of clothing she finds on the floor - Jake’s t-shirt. She makes her way to his tiny kitchen only to return a couple of minutes later with two mugs of coffee. She places one on his nightstand and sits down on the bed next to him.

“You know, I’m actually surprised you’re not rushing around,” he comments between sips.

She shrugs. “I have my morning routine timed,” she says, as if it were the most obvious piece of information. “And your apartment is closer to the precinct than mine. I can walk there from here, and that saves me like thirty minutes.”

“Why didn’t you say anything? We could have- wait. You don’t live thirty minutes away from work. Fifteen tops.”

“I know. But we live in New York. I’m not going to leave my apartment with barely enough time and be late for work because I got stuck in a traffic jam. I’m not an idiot.”

“You’re adorable.”

Suddenly her face is on fire, and she’s biting down her lower lip to hold back a smile. His face has gone soft - he’s looking at her the way she’s caught him a couple of times when they’re watching something, or at work, and he thinks she can’t see him. As much as she tries, she can’t stop herself from leaning forward and plant a kiss on his lips.

“Now,” she says once she’s back on her previous spot, placing the empty mug on the bedside table next to her phone, “if you’re finished with that,” she points to his own mug, “maybe you can join me in the shower.”

She bursts into laughter when he takes a quick look at his half full mug and a second later gulps down the remaining coffee. He’s on his feet and on her side of the bed, holding out a hand to help her up, before she even puts her feet on the floor.

“Did I just find the way to make you get up on time?” she asks, still chuckling, as he leads the way to the bathroom.

“Maybe.”


End file.
